Bound: The Mastered Series (5 page)

Amery gave him a skeptical look. “You won’t have a bunch of your friends there as ringers, pretending to be interested in me?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t do something so dishonorable. Second, I want
you
to see all the men that flock to you when you’re not surrounded by gay camouflage.”

She laughed. “Okay. You’re on. But I have two conditions.”

“Which I’ll allow you to mention but I do not have to abide by, since the experiment was my idea and the rules are mine to make.” He smiled serenely. “But please, go ahead and tell me your conditions.”

“I want to hear your backstory.”

“Didn’t you read my bio on the Web site?”

She had, despite the fact that she’d only read it to see if he’d listed any personal information. “Yes. But that’s your official bio. It’s not the same. So tell me.”

The food arrived, putting an end to the discussion.

While they ate Amery wondered if Ronin would skirt the subject again.

But he started talking without prompting after he finished his burger. “My father was stationed in Japan when he met my mother. They married, against my grandfather’s wishes. Since my father was in the air force, we moved a lot. My dad trained in jujitsu and started taking me to class with him when I was three. Long story short, after my father died, we moved to Japan.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. Even though I’m a quarter Japanese on my mother’s side, I didn’t fit in anywhere besides the dojo. By age twelve I’d enrolled in a school where the main focus was jujitsu. By age sixteen I knew I’d found my calling. My grandfather refused to pay for advanced training, so I found an old master who agreed to swap training for my help with his business.”

“That’s very
Karate Kid
.”

“I swear I’m not making this up. I trained with him for two years. When I turned eighteen I joined a . . .” He said a Japanese phrase. “There’s no word for it in English. The closest description is a sort of monastery.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

“No. I spent four years there. It was a humbling and inspiring opportunity that I’m grateful for to this day. Upon my return to the real world at age twenty-two, I had to choose citizenship since Japan doesn’t allow duality. I chose the U.S. Within four years of living here, I’d earned the money and built the reputation to start my own dojo.”

“Wow. That’s way more exciting than my story.”

“It is what it is. Now what’s the second condition?”

“I want to know if you’re serious about hiring me or if it was just a way to get me to go out on a lunch date with you.”

“I’m serious about having you design a new logo. But I also wanted a lunch date with you.”

“Do you always get what you want?”

“Always.” Ronin bent his head closer to hers. “As far as the logo is concerned, I’d like a bolder design that speaks of Japanese jujitsu, not the Brazilian method that’s become so popular.”

An edge had crept into his voice. “I take it you don’t approve of that method?”

“Brazilian jujitsu is the preferred form for MMA fighters and I have no issue with the method. Just the guys who claim to have training in it. Few of the dojos around here have a qualified leader. They add the term ‘Gracie method’ and students flock to their classes. I’m traditional in that I train students to master techniques and learn control, not only to fight.”

Everything about his physical charisma compelled her. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at her, she could see the fire dancing in his eyes. She watched the agitated muscle popping in his jaw and how his full lips flattened into a thin line. All subtle movements that she might’ve missed if she hadn’t allowed his magnetism to pull her in. A section of hair fell across his cheek and she had to curl her fingers into her palms to keep from brushing it aside. “Were you a good fighter?”

“I don’t have TKO stats, or an official win-loss record, or a medal or a winner’s belt. But I did make a whole bunch of money fighting, and that allowed me to start Black Arts.”

“And that was the endgame for you? The only reason you fought?”

Ronin seemed surprised she’d moved so close. He reached out and followed a section of her hair from her scalp to the end where it rested against her breast. “You’re the first person to ask me that in a very long time. It’d be tempting now, even fourteen years later, to say I only fought to earn my place so I didn’t have to fight anymore.” He stroked her hair again and the blunt edge of his fingertip grazed her cheek. “But the truth is, I like fighting. I like matching my skill against another opponent. In class, we work the techniques, but we’re always careful not to hurt the students. But on the mat during a match? Pain isn’t a concern. The fighting is raw.”

The gentle way he touched her hair as he spoke so nonchalantly about violence gave her a surprisingly intimate peek into this complex man. “Do you still fight?”

“Four years ago a Brazilian jujitsu practitioner publicly questioned my credentials and openly mocked me for claiming I’d studied in Japan and that I was part Japanese. Normally I don’t bother with martial arts politics, but when he brought it into my house? Making those claims in front of my students? I couldn’t let it slide.”

“Is that why you’ve got security at the front door?”

“Partially. He did just walk in with twenty of his students and disrupt my classes. I had no idea if they’d brought weapons, so I took preventive measures after that incident to provide better security for my students.”

“What happened? Was him showing up on your turf like he’d declared war?”

Ronin smiled. “He said he’d meet me anytime, anyplace, so I suggested a time and a place. He bragged near and far about the public beat-down he was about to dish out.”

“And?”

“I lost.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you serious?”

“No. But telling you the truth will put me in a different light in your eyes, and I’m not ready for that. I’m liking the way you’re looking at me now, Amery.”

She blushed. “Tell me anyway.”

He kept absentmindedly running his fingers down that same section of hair. “I wiped the floor with him. He wanted it real—I gave him real. I broke his arm and his nose. I dislocated his shoulder. I cracked his ribs. All within five minutes.”

Amery fought a shiver. “Did he do any damage to you?”

Their eyes met. “He dislocated my finger and gave me a deep bruise on my hip.” He tugged on the end of her hair. “How did we get so far off topic?”

“It’s not off topic. It’s stuff I need to know if you and I are . . . ah, working together.”

He seemed amused that she’d kept her answer professional.

“I’ll work up some design ideas for the logo.”

“Perfect. But on the personal side of us
working together
, mark your calendar tomorrow night for the ‘hot chick getting hit on in a bar’ challenge.”

“Ronin—”

He held up his hand, forestalling her argument, and took his phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”

Amery recited the digits, watching him plug the numbers in. Then her phone buzzed with a text message.

“Now you have mine. You decide on the destination at the last minute so you know it’s not rigged.” Ronin scowled at his phone buzzing in his hand. “Excuse me, I need to take this.” He left the table and walked to the far edge of the balcony.

She stood and straightened her skirt. She picked up the helmet. Ronin’s conversation drifted to her—so odd to hear him speaking in Japanese.

That reiterated her misgivings. What did she really know about this man? Besides that he fired her blood? No doubt he embodied sexy, exotic, and mysterious—but she reminded herself his life was devoted to teaching the finer points of violence.

He returned. “I’m so sorry, but I will have to send you back to your office in a cab. Something came up that I need to deal with right away.”

She placed her hand on his chest. “Are you okay?”

Ronin dipped his head and brushed his cheek against hers. “Yes. But I appreciate your concern because that shows me you know this is more than just business between us.” He kept his hand on the middle of her back as they walked downstairs.

At the hostess stand he spoke to Michael and discreetly palmed him cash. He paused in the doorway and looked at Amery. He mouthed,
Tomorrow,
and then he was gone.

“IS
this seat taken?”

Amery glanced up at the tall, lanky man with sandy brown hair. Cute in that geeky sort of way. “No. It’s open.”

“Great. Thanks.” He picked up the chair and carried it to his table of friends.

So much for him offering to buy her a drink.

But she’d suspected that’s how this hour-long social experiment would play out. She feigned interest in the TV in the corner, trying not to devour the bowl of snack mix placed in front of her.

This was a cool bar. Why had she walked by the place dozens of times but hadn’t stopped in? The vibe here was relaxed despite the upbeat music. Great ambience with the brightly colored pendant lights hanging from the high ceiling. Like in so many old warehouses in Lodo, the rafters had been left exposed, as had the brick walls. She’d checked out the scarred wide-planked oak as she’d walked in, wondering if she’d find similar flooring beneath the carpet in her loft.

As she’d prepped herself for a night at the meat market, she considered Ronin’s observation—maybe she hadn’t been looking in the right places to meet eligible men. She chatted with the same guys at the gym, but they’d never asked her out. No men attended her yoga classes. She’d smile at guys at the grocery store, or the bank, keeping it friendly, but it hadn’t made a difference. She went to the movies alone. She ate out by herself frequently and it didn’t bother her, but other patrons avoided making eye contact, pitying her as a single diner.

Amery admitted she’d fallen into a rut—relying on Emmylou and Chaz to entertain her. Molly had pulled into her shell completely after the attack and they hadn’t done anything together outside of work for ages. In recent months if her pals were busy, she’d stay home and watch movies or TV or read.

Nothing wrong with liking her own company . . . was there?

A man sidled up next to her and smiled. “Hey. I haven’t seen you in here before.”

“First time. I thought I’d swing in and have a drink.”

“If you’re thirsty I could buy the next one.”

“That’s sweet. Thank you, but I’m meeting a friend.”

His eyes filled with regret. “Shame. Enjoy.” He took off.

After that, Amery fended off advances from several other guys as she nursed her drink. If she hadn’t made plans with Ronin, she might’ve given her number to a couple of them.

Where was Ronin anyway?

Then she felt his eyes on her, even though she couldn’t see him. Calming her even as he assessed her. Thankfully this demonstration or whatever it was ended in ten minutes. She ordered another martini. As the clock wound down, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She faced the guy. He looked familiar.

“Amery? It’s Will Aberle. Do you remember me? I’m friends with Chaz.”

“Will! Of course I remember you. Chaz dragged us to that laser tag place last fall. We froze our butts off.”

“I haven’t seen Chaz for a while. How is he?”

“Good. He’s in a relationship now. Well, as much as Chaz can be in a relationship, which means—”

“He’s still on the prowl,” Will finished.

“God, don’t we sound like bitchy queens dissing on our friend?”

“That’s the problem with always being the straight man.”

She laughed. Will was funny and had the blond-haired, blue-eyed look Amery found so appealing. So why hadn’t she ever let him know she was available?

Because no matter how nice he seems, he reminds you of your ex.

“How’ve you been?” Will asked.

“I can’t complain. I’ve kept up with new business and haven’t lost much of my old business. What about you? You’re in insurance, right?”

“Yes, I’m in the actuary department, which sounds incredibly stuffy every time I say it.”

“So, is this your usual hangout?”

“I’m usually in one night a week. I never see you here.”

“My first time.”

“I ought to buy you a drink to celebrate.”

A hand landed on her shoulder and Ronin’s smooth cheek brushed hers as he inserted himself between them. “Sorry I’m late. I know how much you hate waiting.” Then he offered his hand to Will. “Ronin. And you are?”

“Will.”

“Thanks, Will, for keeping my girl company.”

What was up with Ronin acting as if they were a couple?

“My pleasure.” Will smiled at Amery. “Good seeing you again.” Then he moved to the other side of the bar.

“You ready?” Ronin asked.

“For you to explain to me exactly what the hell that was? Yes. Start talking.”

Ronin squeezed her shoulder. “A friendly reminder that you’re off the market.”

“Like I’m a slab of meat?” she asked sharply.

“You are Grade-A prime cut all the way, baby.”

“Ronin. That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not.”

His eyes were so . . . penetrating that her heart sped up. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re a beautiful woman, who just rejected eight offers from strangers who wanted to buy you drinks.” He traced the edge of her cheek and tipped her chin up. “Watching you was a special kind of torture for me because I willingly devised it.”

“Why?”

“I wanted you to see the truth about yourself. Then I realized you would’ve let some of those guys buy you a drink or maybe even left with them had the situation been different.”

“Do you want me to admit you were right?”

“About letting any one of them buy you a drink? No.” Ronin’s thumb slowly followed the curve of her lower lip. When she trembled, he seemed to take great pleasure in treating her to another leisurely pass, ensuring that she trembled from his touch again. “Was I right about you being the sexiest woman in this bar? Yes. So say
I’m unaware of my own beauty
and you were irrevocably right, Ronin
.”

Somehow Amery eased back from his enthralling touch. “Fat chance. So, where were you sitting while I was proving your point?”

“In the corner.”

“Watching my back?”

He gestured to the front of the bar. “I didn’t want to watch your back; I wanted to watch your face.” He plucked up her restless hand. “Since I won, I get to pick what we do tonight. Have any idea what that might be?”

Please say hours of hot, raunchy sex.

Ronin’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say something?”

“Uh. No.” Thank god she hadn’t said that out loud, but she half suspected he’d read her mind. “What are we doing?” she asked quickly. “I hope it involves food.”

“Isn’t it fortunate I planned to cook for you at my place?”

So maybe hot sex was on the menu for tonight. She smiled. “Sounds delicious.”

“Let’s go.”

Amery upended her drink and took his hand as he led her outside. No worries about driving since she’d walked to the bar. She’d even worn jeans in case Ronin had driven his motorcycle.

But out on the street he stopped beside a black Lexus SUV. He opened the passenger door. “You look disappointed.”

“I kind of like the bike.”

“Next time.”

Once they were tooling down the road, she said, “I don’t know where you live.”

“Same as you: where I work.”

She frowned. “You live in the dojo?”

“On the top floor. And also like you, I own the building.”

“What else is in the building?”

“Dojo offices and additional training areas take up the second and part of the third floor. I rent out the fourth floor to businesses that don’t have much walk-in traffic but needed office space.”

“How long have you owned the building?”

“Bought it ten years ago. Needed a ton of work. My priority was the dojo. Then my living space. It’s just in the last six years the middle floors were updated and ready to rent out.”

“So, do you have instructors and students just pop into your place to say howdy?”

Ronin shook his head. “It’s no secret I live on the top floor, but access is limited.” He circled the area twice. “The downside to this area is the lack of parking.”

“Sucks when you have to haul groceries, doesn’t it?”

“That’s why I don’t have a membership at Costco.”

He had a better sense of humor than Amery had credited him for. She headed for the front entrance, but he snagged her hand and led her to the alley. “Back door.”

“Afraid you’ll get waylaid and need to show a technique or ten to some poor struggling white belt?” she teased.

“No.” They stopped in front of a rusty steel door. He unlocked a small metal box, which housed a keypad, punched in a code, and the locks popped.

“Fancy.”

“Safe,” he corrected.

Amery could hear the sounds of the dojo as they cut down a narrow hallway. They stopped at another door, which also required a key card for the code box. Through that door was an elevator bay with two elevators. They rode in silence to the fifth floor and got off.

She followed him down a short carpeted hallway and he stopped in front of a set of double doors. Another swipe of the key card, another code.

“I’m starting to feel like I’m in a spy movie.”

Ronin held the door open for her. “Almost there.”

Before her was another elevator. She faced him, her mouth open. “You have a private elevator to your apartment?”

“Keeps the riffraff out.”

She laughed.

“It’s no different than standard high-rises. The top floor always has a separate elevator.”

With all the security measures, how would she get out if she had to? Her heart raced at the sudden thought and she studied the pattern in the fake-wood paneling as Ronin messed with another keypad.

The elevator started to go up.

He didn’t speak until the door opened. “After you.”

Amery stepped onto a tiled entryway and stopped.

Then Ronin was in her face. “What’s wrong?”

“This . . . private elevator, super-secret security stuff. What if there’s a fire and I can’t get out because I don’t have the key card or the codes? Or what if I just want to leave?”

His rapt gaze remained on hers. “If you want to leave, I’ll take you home right now. No questions asked.”

That mollified her some.

“This is a no-pressure situation, Amery. I won’t drag you into my bedroom and tie you to my bed.” He smiled devilishly. “Well, not at first.”

Her quick laugh held a trace of nerves.

“We’ll have dinner, conversation, see if there’s something between us worth pursuing.”

“And if there isn’t?”

The look on his face said he didn’t believe that was a possibility. “Do you want to be here?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Ronin crowded her against the wall and curled his hands around her face. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you threw your pants at me.”

Amery couldn’t think of a witty retort; she couldn’t think period. Then he teased her mouth with his. A glide of his lips, followed by an exchange of heated breath. She trembled with heart-pounding, body-tingling anticipation.

His tongue lightly swept across the seam of her lips and she automatically opened her mouth wider. Wanting more.

Ronin slowly licked his way inside. First a taste. Another lick. A soft suck. His thumbs feathered across her cheeks as he held her face. Then he angled her head and consumed her mouth in a blistering kiss.

Oh god. Could the man kiss. No holds barred, he poured passion and skill and need into the kiss until Amery returned his fire with her own. She closed her eyes and her fingers curled into his chest, holding on to him even as she gave him control.

He took it as if it were his due.

By the time he ended the kiss, her body vibrated. Her head was muzzy and her lips buzzed.

“Still want to go?” he murmured.

“No.”

“You sure?” he asked, his lips trilling down her throat.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’m glad. Do you want a tour? Or are you starved?”

“A tour would be good.”

Ronin placed one last, lingering kiss on her lips and took her hand. He led her through a curved archway. “This is the living room. Feel free to look around while I see to dinner.”

Maybe austere was a Japanese thing. Or maybe his décor choice reflected his bachelor status. The furnishings weren’t scaled to the size of the room. Just two simple couches, long and low-backed, covered in plain neutral brown fabric. Two tan chairs sat opposite each other in front of a fireplace. A coffee table, end tables, a leather bench, and several floor lamps finished the space.

He hadn’t scattered personal items on the horizontal surfaces. No family pictures. No accolades from his jujitsu career.

Art hung here and there. One picture contained a graphic scene—a fat Japanese man opened his robe, exposing his exaggerated genitalia to a disheveled geisha cowering on the ground. Two more similar in theme hung next to it. One with a long-haired samurai wielding a sword at a snarling tiger standing in front of massacred bodies. The last picture featured a crouching Japanese man, naked, his oversized genitalia resting on the ground. In front of him was a half-clothed woman, tied to a post in some fancy rope configuration, and the man held her foot, licking the sole with an enlarged tongue.

From behind her, Ronin said, “Those are shunga prints.”

“Interesting decorating choice.”

“They’re heavy with symbolism, not at all what they appear to be on the surface.”

Ironic that description could also be applied to him?

They skirted a wall that divided the living spaces but didn’t reach the ceiling or the other two walls and left a large gap by the floor. Gave the illusion of a floating wall, which was cool.

A dining room and kitchen area took up the entire side.

She frowned. For the size of the building, the main living spaces seemed off.

“Something wrong?” Ronin asked in that deep and sexy voice.

“I just was trying to grasp the area spatially. The dojo, for being divided into smaller training areas, seems much bigger than this open space. Since I know the building is the same dimension on the bottom as it is on the top, it’s throwing me off.”

Ronin took her hand. “Very astute observation. As a single man, I don’t need seven thousand square feet of living space. The remodel chopped the top floor in half. So this is roughly four thousand square feet.”

“So you don’t use the other half of this floor for offices or anything?”